He's Given Up Talking
by kirana44
Summary: So when Mr Schue makes the club sing a solo to express themselves, Matt decides he's not going to stay silent for that much longer...Matt-centric fic.


**Author's Note:** I really have no idea where this came from. I just felt really sorry for Matt. Remember Matt? The black dude in the background who never had a solo and only had three lines in the whole show? Yeah, I decided to write up a reason as to why he's like this. Same with Brad as well. It's just that I felt so bad, since he could have been a cool character, but he was never developed from being in the background. Poor guy. So yeah, this is fr our unsung heroes. :D

The song is, unfortunately, Paul McCartney. I don't normally like him, but in actually doing some research on selective mutism, I found he'd done a song on it, so I decided to use it. So the song, "She's Given Up Talking" belongs to him, and the Glee cast belongs to Ryan Murphey.

* * *

It's not that Matt Rutherford can't speak. Of course he can, how can he sing if he can't speak? And it's not like he doesn't want to talk to people. He likes Mike, and Brittany and Santana and everyone else in Glee. No, he's not adverse to speaking.

Too bad his mouth won't let him do it.

He tries, he really does. But whenever he was asked to read something out in class, or whenever a girl asked him for his name, he'd freeze. His heart would pound so painfully in his chest, and he would hold his tongue, no matter how badly he just wanted to _speak_. And he has no idea why this is.

The doctor who came to check him out, on a teacher's recommendation, said he had something called Selective Mutism. He felt that it fit rather well, as when he was home, he was fine. He wasn't abnormal, or a freak. He was just a kid who loved sports and music and dancing, and he had so much to express. His voice had become a secret which only few knew about, and that hurt more than anything. Because despite his inability to speak, because of the fear, he loved to sing. Whenever he blew his chances and couldn't find the right words, he'd just put on his iPod and the music would do all the talking for him. Not that anyone knew this, of course.

Growing up, barely anyone made the effort to try to get to know him, and the ones who did usually gave up after a while. But not Mike Chang. Even now, Matt never knew what it was that made Matt want to talk to him so badly (he'd never know it was because Mike knew what it was like to be so shy around people, and that Mike had thought he'd found someone he could relate to). Matt could remember their first one-sided conversation like it was yesterday; he'd seen Mike sitting in corners by himself for so long that he was completely blown away when Mike just bounded up to him one day, held his hand out and said, a hugely nervous grin on his face, "Hi! I'm Mike, but you probably already knew that. You're Matt, aren't you? Want to hang out with me?" It was slow going, but Matt had never been more proud of himself when, out of the blue, he actually said hello back to him. They'd been friends ever since. And so when Finn had joined Glee club and the school's resident rainbow flag flyer had helped them win their first game of the season, they decided to try out for the club together. Both of them felt they couldn't sing by themselves. But when Mr Schue told them that their task for this week was to sing a solo, using a song that truly represented them, Matt realised he couldn't stay silent for very much longer.

It was a warm Spring morning when Matt had stood at the front of the choir room, with his intrigued audience staring at him like he had two heads. He'd really wished they would have stopped looking at him like that, but he could understand why they did it. The never heard him talk, and he was now singing solo? They'd all just expected him to skip out on the task, like Mike had. But he'd wanted to try, and the song he'd picked was beyond perfect. This was his voice, and he wanted them to know it existed. But even so, he had to close his eyes as the music filtered through the room, and suddenly the words just spilled from his mouth.

_She's given up talking, don't say a word_

_Even in the classroom_  
_Not a dickie bird_  
_Unlike other children_  
_She's seen and never heard_  
_She's given up talking_  
_Don't say a word_

_You see her in the playground_  
_Standing on her own_  
_Everybody wonders_  
_Why she's all alone_  
_Someone made her angry_  
_Someone's got her scared_  
_She's given up talking_  
_Don't say a word_

_Ah but when she comes home_  
_It's yap-a-yap-yap_  
_Words are running freely_  
_Like the water from a tap_  
_Her brothers and her sisters_  
_Can't get a word in edgeways_  
_But when she's back at school again_  
_She goes into a daze…_

He knows the words, can live and breathe them as easily as air...but then he opens his eyes, and he can see the looks on their faces, and the thought comes to him before he can stop it (_Oh God, they're all **staring** at me) _and before he can stop himself, his tongue freezes and his throat dries. And suddenly he's scared, and looking around the room, like a deer in the path of an oncoming car, he can't do anything but freeze up. The music is still playing, but he knows when he's failed. He suddenly finds a seat at the back of the room, sits down and he buries his face in his hands. He can't bear to see Brittany continue to stare at him, and he can't let himself hear Puck nudge him and whisper "Dude, what_ happened_?"He stays there and blocks everything out, never wanting to leave a room so badly in his life.

He was packing away his things when he heard a tapping noise from the piano. Matt looked around, and was surprised to find that he was alone, except for the piano man, who was now looking at him expectantly. The bearded man gestured for him to come over, and when he did, he pulled out a moleskin notebook and a pen. He flipped though it until he found a fresh, page, and he wrote:

_Nice song choice, kid. You did your best, and that's what mattered._

Brad's handwriting was beyond neat. Plain, without any flourishes to it. Easy to read. Matt watched the words form on the page, and he smiled.

"Thank you," he said. Brad lent over the paper again, the pen scratching loudly in the near-silent room.

_It's nice to know that I'm not the only mute here, you know. It's difficult, but hey. Life's a bitch._

Matt looked at him, his face like a question. Brad just smiled sadly and pointed at his throat. A thin white scar, rather faint, ran across his Adam's apple. The pen was speaking again.

_Non-cancerous tumour. The surgeon who got rid of it was a complete hack. I've not been able to speak right since. I can still do it, sure – but it's not comfortable. _

Matt couldn't keep from looking sympathetic. "I'm sorry," he said, surprised that he was able to speak to this guy he barely knew. Brad just grinned.

_Hey, it's not so bad. My wife tells me that she adores the strong, silent type, and she loves my handwriting. And my piano speaks for me, like your songs speak for you. I just wanted you to know that it gets better._

Matt couldn't think of anything to say, even though his tongue felt loose and relaxed. So he just smiled, said "Thank you" again and left.

The next day, he sat down in the choir room to find that everyone had split into their own little groups, almost forgetting his solo the day before. He's been expecting this, though. Most of them were divas, so it's easy for them to forget the one who barely speaks. But as Mike turned to cat to him, he saw Brad the piano man walk into the room, sit on his well-worn bench, look up at him…and he waved. Matt suddenly felt relieved, as he realised that for once in his life, he'd truly been heard.

Matt waved back.


End file.
